“Certainly I do, Cara.”

“Why, Jane!  There is no comparison, in this respect, between them.  Every one knows that while Walter is dull, even to stupidity, Charles has a brilliant, well-informed mind.  It is only necessary to hear each converse for an hour, to decide upon their respective merits.”

“In that last sentence you have uttered the truth, Cara, but the result would depend much upon the character of the listeners.  For a time, no doubt, if Charles made an effort to show off, he would eclipse the less brilliant and unobtrusive Walter.  But a close and discriminating observer would soon learn to judge between sound and sense, between borrowed thoughts and truthful sentiments originating in a philosophical and ever active mind.  The shallow stream runs sparkling and flashing in the sunlight, while the deeper waters lie dark and unattractive.”

Cara shook her head as her friend ceased speaking, and replied, laughingly—­

“You can beat me at talking, Jane—­but all your philosophy and poetry can’t make me think Charles Wilton less brilliant and sensible, or Walter Gray less dull and spiritless.”

The two young men whose merits Jane Emory and Cara Linton had thus been discussing, had been law students for some years in the same office, and were now just admitted to practice at the bar in one of our Atlantic cities.  They were friends, though altogether unlike each other.  Walter Gray was modest and retiring, while Charles Wilton was a dashing, off-hand kind of a fellow, with more pretensions than merit.  The mind of Walter was rather sluggish, while that of his friend was quick, and what some were disposed to esteem brilliant.  The one was fond of dress and show, and effect; while the other paid less regard to these things than was really necessary to make him, with many, an agreeable companion.  But the quick perceptions of the one were not equal to the patient, untiring application of the other.  When admitted to practice, Wilton could make an effective, brilliant speech, and in ordinary cases, where an appeal to the feelings could influence a jury, was uniformly successful.  But, where profound investigation, concise reasoning, and a laborious array of authorities were requisite, he was no competitor for his friend Gray.  He was vain of his personal appearance, as has before been indicated, and was also fond of pleasure and company.  In short, he was one of those dashing young men to be met with in all professions, who look upon business as an necessary evil, to be escaped whenever a opportunity offers—­whose expectations of future prosperity are always large, and who look for success, not in the roads of patient, laborious application, but by a quicker and more brilliant way.  They hope to produce a sensation by their tact or talents, and thus take fortune by storm.  Few, indeed we might say none, of this class succeed.  Those who startle a community by rapid advances, are, in all cases, such as have, to quick perceptions and brilliant powers, added much labor.  Talent is nothing without prolonged and patient application; and they who suppose the road to success lies in any other way, may discover their error too late.